Season of the Falling Leaves
by Canis lupus
Summary: Amidst the raging Lylat Wars, a young couple is drawn together by the hands of fate, each bearing a fable of suffering. The mournful winds of autumn test their affinity...
1. Chapter I

Season of the Falling Leaves  
  
By Canis lupus  
  
The door slowly slipped open, and from the excessively narrow slits of my half-closed eyes, I could see father creeping about my bedroom gingerly, taking care not to stir me with the slightest of noises. I pretended to be asleep and lay in bed, observing his every move. Threads of light escaped from the door left ajar, and under the dim surroundings, father sat beside me on the bedside. His hands gently brushed my hair - callous from years of rigorous military training, but tender upon my head. In silence, he sat there, watching. A solemn gaze replaced his usually assertive glare. For once, he seemed almost helpless. Unknown reluctance kept him sitting, but I could see a laser rifle slung over his broad shoulders, the lights glaring against the polished metallic barrel. Where was he going?  
  
The door to my bedroom was pushed further agape, and at the threshold, I could discern the slender silhouette of a young lupine lady, mother.  
  
"Is the child asleep yet?" mother whispered in a sad, wavering voice.  
  
"Yes, Summers is sound asleep," father answered wearily, hands still gliding over my forehead.  
  
He bent over to kiss me on the cheek, then pulled the blanket over me and patted me softly before rising up and leaving my room as quietly as he came in. At the door, the two gathered in a tearful embrace. I could hear mother sobbing silently, and father whispering soft words into her ears. Her shoulders shook as she tried to contain her emotions. Then, with a passionate kiss, father slowly disengaged from her embrace and strode to the house's front door. Mother did not follow. She slowly slid out of his arms and leaned against the walls.  
  
"I'll be back. I promise," father said in a still voice. Yet, his gaze looked infinitely forlorn, like the waning moon of autumn.  
  
Mother could gather no respond – she simply uttered incoherent words, drowned in her muffled sobs. Then, father did not look back; he bolted out of the door. I did not understand why he left us so. Climbing up from bed, I ran to the window and propped my head against the icy panes. On the streets, the bony branches of barren trees tossed and swayed amidst the roaring winds, which rose and fell like a thousand bickering voices. Fallen leaves danced in colorful swirls of yellow, orange, and red. It was autumn, and already, fringes of frost had crept upon the frames of glass. Within the swirls of leaves and gusts of chilly breeze, father disappeared into the night.  
  
That was the last that I saw of him. I was five back then.  
  
Suddenly, I snapped awake to find myself within the carriage of a train, slowly remembering where I was headed. There were few in the same cart, mostly elderly passengers with heads bobbing drowsily as the rail hummed softly beneath. Outside the window, the vast Corneria moors rolled on to the fringes of the horizon. A few excessive slants of mountains protruded from the beds of heather, like giant, solitary monoliths, and at the base were clusters of trees turned orange by the touch of seasons. All this scenery rolled by as the train proceeded in its hastening schedule. I was at the rural regions of Corneria, aboard an old, dusty carriage. The country did not have the luxury of modern monorails.  
  
I shook my head and looked down. It was this dream again – the dream of father leaving for the Wars of Extradition, when Corneria fought against the first renegade armies of Andross. I received word later that father died in battle as the leader of his platoon. Indeed, he was a colonel in the infantry – a role that may seem insignificant, but could not be overlooked in this case. Father was not a man of influence; nor was he a man of words. He was an agent for the government. A powerful and successful one at that - more like the infantry equivalent of James McCloud. Father led the first successful strike on the Imperial establishments in Venom, but soon he was demised in his missions. Colonel Branwell - a name that brings old wartime patriotism to the hearts of veterans.  
  
I laughed in irony. Colonel Branwell is also my title – or rather, "was." Through the ephemeral glare of the cart windows, I could see myself – a youthful, slender lupine in appearance; a fallen warrior in dignity. During the previous battles, I, too, was a leading colonel – adorned in a simple, sagging blue tunic and a sash, which held my draping pants in place. A long, ancient sword was slung over my back; a symbol of old aristocracies. Indeed, the sword was passed down to me along with my family name, but it does not matter anymore. I have grown up under the crushing weight of those two dangling syllables of expectation. Yet, I have proved myself worthless. No, not in military terms, but to myself – to those closest and dearest to me, and to those who awaited me back home. A dream of the past is a dream of premonition. I should have heeded these signs, these hideous hints at disaster, but it is all too late to salvage me in my current wretched state.  
  
How shall I begin? I suppose I should tell you my name first. I am Summers Branwell. An ironic name, I know, for the current situation resembles nothing like "summer," nor does my personality. I was born in a small, rural township called Crimson Falls– a five-hour drive from the heart of Corneria City it meant. The suburban streets are lined with modest brick and wooden buildings, the remnants of its former glory. I once heard father say that it was a center of research centuries ago. In fact, Andross once conducted secret research in this region. Now all that is left is a particularly grim and undeveloped town. My house was like every other – two stories high, built in timber and painted in white plaster, with my bedroom downstairs and my parents' upstairs. It was here that I grew up. Yes, I remember that one phenomenon had always fascinated me in my childhood – the autumns. The fall of crimson leaves was a sight from which our quiet town's name was derived. All the trees would gradually shed its colorful coat, covering the streets, houses, and everything else in poetic drifts of fallen leaves. And every so often, something would to happen during these times… Yes… autumn is the time when everything happens… Autumn is the time when Laura and I first met.  
  
---To be continued---  
  
Illustration of Laura and Summers:  
  
http://www.justicecadets.com/art/canis/seasonscolor.jpg 


	2. Chapter II

Chapter 2:  
  
Laura…  
  
I looked down dumbly as the name lingered in my mind – fresh as reality, yet distant as death. My crimson eyes reflected upon the metal canister that I clutched tenaciously in my grimy hands, illuminating with an eerie glow that seems to capture my soul within its metallic confines. A simple, crude vessel that contained something that I cannot bear to speak. It felt heavy beyond words…  
  
My mind slowly dragged back to that fateful autumn – two years ago, was it? It seems like an eternity. I was a mere fourteen back then, still youthfully energetic and oblivious of all the world's suffering. I no longer grieved for father's death, nor for mother's, which ensued shortly after.  
  
That afternoon, I pranced to the local academy of Crimson Falls. Typical of that particular season, the streets were once again engulfed in deep, rolling waves of fallen leaves. Like Laura and myself, many youths were left orphaned as the adults committed themselves to Corneria's protection. Every night was a tearful departure. Every night was a tragedy replayed, and yet, I managed to stay positive and naïve as I was. No, that is an understatement – I was rather egocentric and hotheaded, for I led the class in both piloting and infantry training.  
  
As usual, I walked into the classroom with head held high, and tossing my book bag to the side, I plunked down in my seat at the front of the classroom. First period was as boring as it gets. For two hours, the tigress professor lectured about the functions of the standard CL-16 Hornet Class Starfighter and the physics involved. There was no point in listening – I aced everything anyway. Quickly sliding to a slouched position in my seat, I propped my forehead against my fists and gradually dozed off.  
  
But that day was different. While everyone else was seated, I noticed someone standing – waiting calmly by the threshold. I was left with no time to wonder. Slamming her fists on the textbook that lay open before her, the professor quickly gathered attention.  
  
"Okay class," the tigress announced in her vibrant voice. I did not like her particularly brand of speech, but I listened all the same. "Our academy is proud and honored to receive an outstanding student from Katina. Let us all welcome – Laura Heathcliff!"  
  
The whole class broke out in erratic gasps of amazement, as if they had just seen Andross himself. Laura what? I didn't care; it's not like anyone could surpass me, or so I thought in my arrogance. One thing, however, captivated my attention as I gave the newcomer a cursory glance. She looked rather… fine. Yes. She was a young lupine, clad in tight apparel which revealed a mature figure that belied her youthfulness. Her eyes were of a fiery red, just like mine, and lustrous brown hair fell down softly upon her slender shoulders. As she gave her lengthy introductory speech, her vivacious face lit into a sweet, cheerful smile. However, I had little interest in Laura beyond her looks, and even her appearance could do little to dispel the boredom-induced drowsiness that hung about me. I dropped my head on the desk and closed my eyes, gradually allowing consciousness to drift elsewhere.  
  
My ears twitched as I heard light footsteps and shuffling textbooks in close proximity. Opening a sleepy eye, I watched as Laura walked to the desk adjacent to mine and dropped all her belongs near the seat. She leaned over and whispered cheerfully.  
  
"Hello, Summers."  
  
"What? How did you know my name?" I inquired in bemusement, brows furrowed in annoyance. For certain, I did not particularly enjoy people disrupting my rest. Even the instructor knew that.  
  
"Well, who doesn't, you're Branwell arn'cha? Glad to meet someone of the same caliber," she spoke such confident words in the same innocent smile.  
  
"Heh, you wish. Just don't bother me," I grunted crossly and plunked my head down once more. Who did she think she was? General Pepper's daughter?  
  
She could have been annoyed by my unsolicited crass manners, but instead, she laughed in good humor.  
  
I learned later, in the subsequent flight training, that she was the daughter of an achieved admiral in the fleet of far-off Katina. In the wakes of the Wars of Extradition, however, all the occupants of the planet were forced into evacuation – and among the refugees was Laura. But from rumors, her parents stayed behind and defended the planet to their deaths. The news sparked some sympathy in me, for I knew the hardships of solitude all too well. Yet, there were no signs of sorrow in her sprightly disposition.  
  
However, all my former understandings and compassion were swept aside as she skillfully tore my ship into a mangled mess during the flight simulator – and along with my ship, she mopped the floor with my oversized ego. Each subsequent defeat fueled an aversion towards this new genius in town, and what irked me more was the seemingly amiable smile she gave me after each of her victory. Laura paid lavish attention to me, as if she didn't mind my crude remarks. I detested the very sight of her smile. Well… that is, for a while. Things change quickly, as does the colors of the falling leaves.  
  
As I quickly grew irritable over my constant failure, everyday, I would retreat to a clearing near the lanes of the wide starport, and there I lay in brooding dissatisfaction. It was like every other day since Laura's widely publicized arrival. She received appreciative acclaim, and I, growing stigma. I lost to her again – "her" being the emphasis. Even words of encouragement by my friends resulted in strings of ill-tempered cursing from me. The knowledge of my unchallenged superiority in infantry training was the only thing that kept me in the academy at all.  
  
As I lay there in the grassy clearing and watching the jets roaring overhead, I could hear the sound of rustling grass draw closer and closer. And then the view of the azure skies was suddenly blocked by the grinning face of a female lupine. I yelped in surprise and scrambled away.  
  
"Hello Summers," Laura said and smiled sweetly in her vivacious fashion. One would not recognize these innocent features as those of a lethal ace pilot.  
  
"What do you want?" I growled back, gathering my composure.  
  
"Well, I just came by to say hello. You seem to be in a bad mood."  
  
"Humph, none of your business," I grunted, looking away from her in annoyed embarrassment. She quickly walked to me and held my face in her tender hands, turning my gaze to meet hers.  
  
"You don't seem to be very happy to see me. Do you really hate me that much?"  
  
I was at a lost for words. Her glittering eyes stared straight into mine, our muzzles coming dangerously close. My jaw relaxed as the lustrous crimson gradually captivated my soul, and as the awkward silence protracted onwards, my sulking frown softened into a mild countenance of bemusement. With a gentle finger, she tapped my jaw shut, jolting me out of the trance.  
  
"Yes?" she demanded.  
  
"Umm… no… I mean, yes!" I stammered, spinning my head away from her mesmerizing gaze. She giggled at my dogged behavior.  
  
"What? Is it because I'm female, and women aren't supposed to surpass men in piloting, huh?" she insisted.  
  
"Oh you wish! You haven't beaten me yet. Just watch out next time."  
  
True to her mild temperament, she sat down on the grass beside me and sighed in respond – not in contempt, but in a sort of personal comfort unbeknownst to me. After looking down at the fields for a lengthy period of time, she finally spoke again.  
  
"Summers?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You're by yourself, right?" Laura asked softly as she gazed out absently into the distance.  
  
"What do you mean 'by myself'?"  
  
"I mean… you don't have a family, or anyone to lean to?"  
  
"Heh, yeah, since five, but I don't need support – I don't need anyone, for that matter," I replied, impatience ever apparent in my voice.  
  
"The independent Branwell, huh?"  
  
She sighed again and returned to silence, as if musing about something beyond the realms of thinking. For a while, all I could hear was the rustling of leaves, and the soft breeze whistling faintly as it washed over the branches of trees. I looked back at her in bewilderment, wondering about her true intentions. What did she want to say?  
  
"Do you ever worry about just disappearing from the universe without anyone ever noticing? I mean, don't you feel tired of holding out against the whole world and fighting all by yourself?" she continued, immersed in her thinking. Her smile dwindled into a forlorn gaze.  
  
"I don't fight by myself. I fight for myself."  
  
Laura looked down and laughed a little, covering a faint smile with one hand.  
  
"What's so funny?"  
  
"Well, nothing… I'm talking nonsense aren't I?"  
  
"I don't get you, but whatever."  
  
An unbreakable silence protracted onwards, and there we sat in the fields, staring blankly into the blue skies. I never felt that comfortable in a stranger's presence, but somehow, I did not mind Laura anymore. The silence was not one of discomfort, but of mutual understanding that transcended what blunt words could express – an understanding unfettered by the contortion of verbal misinterpretation and skeptic distrust. For once, I dropped my perpetual frown, along with the untrusting guard that I held against the world for so long. 


	3. Chapter III

Chapter 3:  
  
From then onwards, I grew accustomed to Laura's presence. It almost felt natural to be with her, but our special encounter was kept to ourselves – in front of others, I remained as silent and impassive as before, and Laura, as cheerful as she was. However, I often found myself gazing absent-mindedly towards her general direction in class. She would notice from time to time and smile back, and I would clench my jaw and look away in hurried embarrassment. I even began to face my defeat to her with a mild sense of humor.  
  
There were things that I could mask with my usual stern façade – my affinity with Laura was not one of them. I often trudged about the campus, immersed in my musing. Perhaps my friends were the first to notice, for I no longer lashed out at them when they sneered playfully at my defeat. I wouldn't even reply; I would just walk on, gaping a little and thinking.  
  
"Summers, aren't you going to say anything?" one of them insisted one day. As usual, I remained wordless and trudged on.  
  
"I say he's got something – or someone on his mind," another observed shrewdly, my ears perked up at the implication. I halted in my aimless path.  
  
"You mean he's found himself a chick? No way man, he's dead serious and quiet!"  
  
"Heh, you never know. Women can do strange things."  
  
"I wonder how far he's gotten on that…"  
  
"None of your business." I snapped, whipping my head around and putting on a vicious glare to mask my growing embarrassment and consternation. The small decided not to try my biting temperament any further.  
  
And continue I would, walking with gentle eyes peering off into something that seemed to exist beyond the mortal realms; and then before my eyes I would see her, smiling, and a debilitating surge of warmth would wash over me. Walking home all alone in the deep drifts of leaves every chilly afternoon, I thought of her. Yet, something kept a distance between us – a hidden coldness on her part; a wordless boundary. Laura seemed almost unapproachable at times, occasionally retreating into a somber muteness, and looking down at the ground with a solemn loneliness that so perplexed me. I wondered on about her mind's enigmatic preoccupations, and so I contrived to just wait for things to take their place naturally…  
  
And one day, she did approach me again, on her own accord.  
  
It was a lengthy holiday, I remember – a time when everyone rejoiced in the warmth of company and relished the bliss of relaxation, and I, atrophying in the tattered house that my parents had bequeathed to me, sat alone in my room. Solitude seemed to swell around me, the staleness in the air slowly and silently suffocating me. Lying lazily in my bed, I peered out of the window and into the dismal skies. It was raining, and a dampness tainted the streets and all that surrounded me with a grim darkness. The lightness of autumn was all but absent, and the stench of dank, decaying leaves signaled the departure of fall. Heavy drops of rain tapped incessantly at the rooftops, trickling from the drooping oyster-colored clouds, and there, the colorful town of Crimson Falls was painted over in a dull monochrome.  
  
At length, I peered up into the boundless gray of the heavy clouds, absently juggling the weekend options in my mind while I lay in bed. Then, a few faint noises caught my attention. I strained my ears to listen to the light splashes drawing towards the doorsteps, and a few gentle taps on the creaking wooden door ensued.  
  
"Coming," I groaned, my face still propped against the sagging pillow.  
  
Slowly, I gathered some motivation to crawl up from bed and dragged my feet to the door. I covered a yawn as I turned the rusty knob.  
  
"Hey, Summers," a jubilant voice greeted me, and there, Laura stood before me, thoroughly drenched, but still grinning with her white fangs bared.  
  
I stood, gaping. Why would Laura visit me? I was caught totally unprepared. She continued before I could speak.  
  
"Um… my relatives left for the war. I was thinking if I could stay – for now, at least?"  
  
"…What?"  
  
"Will that bother you?"  
  
"N-No, I mean… give me a second, ok?"  
  
With that, I dashed off to my bedroom and carelessly jammed all the scattered articles into the closet. The room was in utter filth and mess. How can I allow Laura to see that? And most of all, what should I do? I wasn't all that "experienced" after all. My heart raced wildly.  
  
"No need to clean up for me," she called from the corridor.  
  
"I'll be done in a sec," I hollered back.  
  
When the room looked presentable enough, I breathed deeply to muster enough composure to meet Laura, then bid her to come in. Her wet feet tapped lightly on the creaking wooden floorboards as she walked, shivering in the cold. It must have been dreadfully cold for her, I observed; it was November, after all. Soon, it would begin snowing.  
  
"You better get changed into something dry," I suggested in concern.  
  
"Would you mind?"  
  
"No, err… I mean, you can wear my stuff if you want."  
  
"That'll be great," Laura said warmly, smiling.  
  
She followed me to my bedroom, arms wrapped around herself to fend off the damp chilliness. A few wet bangs of hair draped over her eyes as she looked around, studying the furniture and quickly evaluating my room as I sifted through my closet for appropriate clothing. One thing, I noticed, caught her fancy. She walked to my bedside and bent down to study a framed photograph that I had placed there – one of father clad in his complete military uniform, with a hand laid upon my shoulder as I grinned broadly at the photographer. It was taken at the academy spaceport some time ago.  
  
"Aww… how cute. Who is this?" she remarked, picking up the picture for a closer look.  
  
"That's me, the kid you see there," I answered in a falsely calm tone, still facing the closet to hide a faint blush. I didn't know how to reply, and I didn't know what to give her to wear.  
  
Her eyes dwelled on the photograph, perhaps realizing that it was my father in the background; he was famous in the Lylat System, after all. But she made no notion to bring up the topic; instead, she shifted her attention to the long sword lying above my cabinet and studied it further, the dangerous gleam of silver dancing across her bright, fascinated eyes.  
  
"Um… the shower's upstairs. Just go up, turn a left, and you're there," I said as I tossed her a shirt and a pair of jeans.  
  
"Thank you so much, Summers," she smiled broadly.  
  
"No problem."  
  
With that, she pranced off gleefully, leaving me behind to ponder the next move. What should I do? I thought, and where would she sleep? My room?  
  
"No," I muttered to myself, shaking off the notion as the blush returned.  
  
But what, and where? I screamed inside as I started to panic. I'm not all that at ease around women, after all. I could hear streams of water begin to tap on the shower floor, and I caught dank whiffs of fog as I sniffed the air. For a while, I just sat dumbly at the bedside, uncomfortable with the whole situation.  
  
I will spare you the explicit details, and the uncomfortable moments of her visit, but things went smoothly. Perhaps I'm a natural. Laura and I didn't do much in particular, as the gloomy weather confined us to the house for most of the holiday, but at length, we conversed about our pasts and our thoughts. I was surprised that I could talk that much, and as I had observed, so was she. Perhaps it was a sign that we were, indeed, meant for each other.  
  
As she unraveled her enigmatic musing before me, I learned, from our conversation, that a looming grief hung about her. Laura seemed a willful, resilient pilot, bearing her misfortunes with great equanimity. In truth, she felt alone, alienated, and most of all, she longed for Katina – the desolated, barren desert planet to the strangers, but home in her eyes. How she went on about her childhood in the Katina base, and how her eyes gleamed sadly at the mention of the planet, I cannot exactly delineate with words. But she was mostly interested in listening to me; it never failed to fascinate her. It was our compatibility, perhaps.  
  
Perhaps…  
  
I would have wished to prolong that period of mutual sharing and enjoyment. We did other things besides talking, of course, but that I shall not share yet. It was as if we existed within each other, and the absence of one would mean the deprivation of life in another.  
  
I would have wished that to last longer, but the seasons would not wait…  
  
Soon, I was transferred to the infantry division, where the Cornerian Federation deemed me more helpful to the country. Autumn fleeted from my grasp as quickly as it came…  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Follow link to an illustration of Summers and Laura in the upcoming chapters:  
  
http://images.deviantart.com/large/indyart/anime/Neo_July_Day.jpg  
  
*This illustration was the featured "Daily Deviation" and "Daily Favorite" for May 3rd on DeviantArt.com! ^_^ 


	4. Chapter IV

Chapter 4:  
  
The day that I received news was much like any day in this uneventful township. I abhorred this rotten silence – this "civilian atmosphere", as I had called it in my teeming youth. While the whole of the Lylat system was torn apart by the raging war against Andross, there I was, sitting idly in Crimson Falls and carrying on my military training. There was Laura to keep me there, of course, but little could contain my impatience for inactivity. Perhaps Laura could have come with me and fight for the Cornerian Federation - for our proud planet, our proud culture and all that it stood for.  
  
If only she came with me…  
  
I had already transferred to the infantry division of the Academy by then, and Laura continued her training with aviation. A harmless breach in our paths soon widened into a gaping rift.  
  
That day, before the heat could dispel the wispy morning fog, the doorbell rang at my modest house. I jolted awake, finding myself in my bed and Laura pressed closely against me. A lazy glow filtered through the curtains and illuminated the room, and under the soft lights, I could see the content curve of a smile imprinted upon Laura's face. Such a tantalizing sight it was to behold – a face harmlessly childlike in manner, yet mature in a sense. What we were doing the night before remained to be answered.  
  
The doorbell rang once more; this time, more impatiently. I reluctantly tore my gaze away from her and threw on the shirt and jeans strewn carelessly across the floor. Trudging to receive the unexpected guest, I juggled around with the possible implications of such an early visit. Who could it be? I tugged the door open drowsily, rubbing my eyes awake and stifling a yawn.  
  
"Private Branwell here?" the visitor inquired formally.  
  
I swept an appraising gaze across his portly stature. A short, middle-aged feline he was, dressed in full Cornerian Army uniform.  
  
"Yes?" I replied.  
  
"A urgent letter awaits your response, sir – from the government, I believe."  
  
He reached out the beige envelope, and after staring at it with a quizzical look, I snatched it from his possession.  
  
"Thanks," I uttered, turning around and shutting the door behind me.  
  
By that time, Laura was awake, and she managed to pull a loosely fitting dress over herself. She gathered up to me and took an equal interest in the letter. The bold black of the Cornerian Insignia was imprinted squarely upon the envelope.  
  
"Morning, Summers. What's this?" she asked, brushing her long, cascading hair away from her eyes. I shrugged.  
  
At length, I tore the envelope open messily, and there, a neat, white letter lay in my hands.  
  
"Salutations,  
  
As you may have been informed, the Cornerian Federation is combating Andross' forces across the Lylat System on multiple frontiers. The prospects look grim for our planet. Imperial forces have penetrated our lines of defense, focusing the assault on Fortuna and swiftly advancing towards Cornerian. I am afraid that you are ill prepared for this position, but alas - desperate times call for desperate measures. With the recommendation of the local academy personnel and taking your father's monumental feats into consideration, we have decided to draft you into the war as a colonel. You are to come to Corneria City, where a briefing will be held on June 6th at the Cornerian Academy. We apologize for the short notice, but nevertheless, I expect to see you there.  
  
1  
  
2 General Ulysses Pepper of Corneria"  
  
A glint of excitement sparked within me as I read over the general's words. A rise of status from a private-in-training to a colonel was a gargantuan leap; yet, I doubted my own experiences. There was a hint of grave tension between the lines.  
  
"A colonel?" I gasped in amazement, shaking my head. "I finally get to test my abilities and fight for the Federation! Laura, this is great news!"  
  
She looked back at me with restraint apprehension and grief, mouth slightly agape as if unable to verbalize a painful thought. Her lips trembled, and her eyes shimmered. My grin slowly died down into a morose frown at her reaction.  
  
"What's the matter?" I asked.  
  
"Are you leaving, then?"  
  
"Why – of course! What do you think? That's what I've been training for all these years. I'll prove to them that I surpass my father, and everyone else!"  
  
An eerier silence drew on. She walked up to me and softly fell into my arms, eyes beaming sadly and pleadingly. I stared down at her in dogged amazement.  
  
"Don't go, Summers. Why do you have to prove anything to anyone? They don't matter to us," she whispered softly into my ears.  
  
"But I have to, Laura, and I want to. I can't escape the draft, after all."  
  
"Stay with me, Summers, just this time. Please…"  
  
"But…"  
  
She said no more, but only stared down at the floor silently, all her emotions withdrawn icily into her introverted self. Allowing her soft bangs to drape over her face, she climbed upstairs, shrinking into an aura of unapproachable solitude; and I let her be, for it was impossible to make her understand. What was fame and glory to a female, anyway?  
  
I packed up the simple articles by myself, my excitement considerably mired by her reaction. I was to depart for Corneria City by the afternoon, and little could get in the way. Yet, something inside boggled me – some inexplicable presentiment…  
  
I shook off the notion and thought of it no more. It was my duty to fight, and I couldn't allow petty premonitions to get in the way.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
The day rolled by swiftly – it's funny how immediate preoccupations can sweep aside all long-term considerations. The snow began to fall outside, and the world seemed to be glazed over with a frosted coat of pure white. Adorned in a clean khaki uniform and with a heavy baggage hauled over one shoulder, I set out of the door with Laura walking wordlessly beside me. The same dull expression overcast her usually bright features.  
  
With a first step out onto the snow-covered ground, my foot sunk deeply into the ice with a crunch. I breathed the air; dry and frigid, yet crisp and clear. Autumn has long since parted, and all was left of the passionate colors of fall were rows of gaunt, lifeless trees lining the barren streets. A decidedly bleak scene it made, but the sun blazed in the distant, reaching forth its warm tendrils from the few rifts in the oyster clouds. A bittersweet orange tinge glided freely across the canvass of bluish-white, and the winter sunlight melded with the dark to form a faintly violet glow – like an eternal passion frozen over by temporary cold.  
  
I laid a reassuring arm over her seemingly frail shoulders; a chord of longing regret suddenly struck within my soul. We were close to each other, yet… so seemingly distant. In silence, we drew across the landscape, two sharp sets of footprints left in the snow to be worn away by the unforgiving winds. Soft flakes of snow began to accumulate on our backs and shoulders. Our warm, damp breaths condensed into puffs of fog in the biting, chilly air.  
  
And soon we arrived at the antiquated train station, where the callous din of traffic commotion rang on in cacophony. We sat and waited, still wordless. Why was I leaving anyway? Why did I have to go? Her words began to soak into me.  
  
"For fame, Summers!" my mind screamed back at me, "And for recognition!"  
  
But life was perfect then – and even more so in hindsight. It's all the fallacy of the heart, to long for what society called success and achievement; to climb the ladder of aggrandizement; to crave something outside of one's possession. The grass is greener on the other side; a road with no return.  
  
The choice was in my very own hands – yet, I chose to deny my own interests and follow what my lonely upbringing told me to do. I thought war was a short business, but it wore on beyond my expectation.  
  
With a shrill cry of the engine, the train rolled by, windows melding into a golden stream against the darkening night. How unrelenting time urged us to make haste decisions. I rose with my bag of belongings clasped in my hand, and Laura followed.  
  
"Inter-Cornerian Express, train number 155 bound for Corneria City. All passengers board," a robotic, monotonous voice rang across the station.  
  
We stood next to the train. The doors hissed agape, beckoning me to enter and follow its guidance into the smoldering bowels of war. My heart pounded. My head felt faint, and the surrounding noises began to dim as a shell of isolation seemed to close in around us – just us two, Laura and I.  
  
"So, you're still going?" Laura asked, her sweet voice wavering.  
  
"Yes," I sighed. My voice began to thicken in my throat.  
  
She looked down, tears beginning to well in her eyes, and her calm composure began to crack and melt away. She leaned against me, her arms braced around my neck and her muzzle pressing against my chest. I too, entangled my arms around her shivering form, emotions suddenly surging upon me. Why? Why was I not content with staying with her in the peaceful town?  
  
"Come back, Summers. Promise to come back quickly, please…"  
  
"I will – I'll do anything to see you again. I promise," I replied soothingly, stroking her hair.  
  
"All passengers board," the transmitter urged once more.  
  
Involuntarily, I raised my hands to her face, lifting her gaze to meet mine, and with flowing sorrow and affection, I leaned forward in a passionate kiss. It felt so… natural.  
  
"I'll always love you, Laura." I whispered forlornly as I looked into her deep, crimson eyes once again. I disengaged myself from the embrace with infinite reluctance, but she gathered no response, the tears choking her words.  
  
I held to her as I slowly slipped away, my fingers tracing her lean form from her shoulders to her hands, and as our grasps finally parted, I felt as if a part of me was left behind with her. For a moment, we stood, watching each other – I, in the carriage of the train, and her, on the cold platform of the station. The automated door slid shut mercilessly, but our eyes never left each other. The engine cried once more, and the wheels began to shriek sharply beneath. A barrier of distance now separated us and rolled across the clear winter's night, slowly and painfully… 


	5. Chapter V

Chapter 5:  
  
And all of the suddenly, the pleasant humming of the train's wheels sounded like cold, rattling chains dragging unwilling souls to the center turmoil. And how everything looked ugly and unideal, and distastefully reminiscent of that night's departure. All of the faces around me seemed stern and unforgiving, and the rolling scenery seemed harshly forbidding.  
  
I screamed inside, heaving spasmodically and knitting my brows as something within me revolted. Everything seemed too painfully realistic - too painful to recount. I clasped the metallic canister within my hands as I tried to withhold my surging emotions.  
  
"Good grief. Are you alright, young man?" An elderly passenger beside me asked in concern.  
  
I snapped back to reality, and before my eyes was the present. All of the flashbacks were quickly tucked away in some dark corner of my heart.  
  
"Yes," I answered, gathering my composure and wiping my forehead. "Yes, it's just. I had a nightmare."  
  
The elderly hare shook her head and chuckled to herself, and I forced a grin to display good humor. I made a mental note to myself to seal all these past events and let them sink peacefully in the ocean of memories. Everything was over, in the untouchable distant past. I have to go on.  
  
Yet, as soon as my eyelids slid shut, the images and voices were brought forth to me again - unwillingly, like a lamb dragged forth to the sacrificial altar.  
  
-------------------------  
  
"Do you see anything, kid?" Fox's voice rang through the communicator, urgency seeping through his voice.  
  
With binoculars fixed over my eyes, I swept my gaze across the war- torn dunes of Katina, witnessing the clash between my men and the Venomian Imperial droids. The riot of earth-rending din wore one as I strained my sight - yet, there were no signs of enemy artillery. Impatience got the better of me.  
  
"I told you, and I will tell you again - I don't see anything," I grimaced and snarled.  
  
A faint, disappointed sigh heaved through the communicator.  
  
"Perhaps you were mistaken," I added more meekly.  
  
"Listen, Branwell. Imperial artillery is designed to evade IR scans and other such detection systems. Two sectors of the Katina base were already blasted to smoldering waste and the signs all point to artillery fire. If you don't locate it, who will?"  
  
I looked back at the tattered walls of the base to which I leaned against, and it was all painfully true. It all depended upon me and my men, who were mere militias at best. An awkward silence ensued, but I could still hear Fox's heavy, rhythmic breaths seethe through the communicator.  
  
"So what do you say, Branwell?" he demanded almost frantically.  
  
"Wait," I called back hurriedly as a distinctive cry throbbed in my ears. Anxiety welled in my heart.  
  
And through the scopes, I could see a wispy flicker on a distant outcrop, and unfolding metallic tubes shrouded in an expanding trail of missile exhaust. Then, a shimmering glow sprawled across the mechanical device and enveloped it in a translucent sheath. Gathering my military knowledge from previous training, I quickly recognized the glow as a cloaking field.  
  
"Artillery fire!" a lieutenant shrieked amidst the chaos of the battle. "Take cover!"  
  
But I stood there all the same. Ignoring his frantic call, I deftly raised the targeter rifle, calmly searched through its scope, and fired a single shot at the outcrop. A rippling red speck formed on the transparent cloak.  
  
A sharp, wailing shriek fell through the sky, and a fiery globe tore through the wall behind me. The beams melted, and the exterior crumbled. Flames and smoking debris spewed forth from the gaping hole.  
  
With one hand shielding my eyes from the fiery onslaught, I swiftly leapt for cover. A few shards of concrete and metal zoomed passed me, and a few found their place on my leg. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and stifled an anguished cry as a searing pain tore through my body. Snarling, I drew my wounded leg closer, the flames of mixed rage and shame kindling in my heart. I marveled at my own incompetence - first, a miscalculation, and then, failure to locate the artillery earlier. God knows how many casualties were caused by this. With bitter savagery, I tore the shards from my wounds.  
  
"Cloaking field penetrated, I repeat, cloaking field penetrated. Enemy artillery should display on radar," I shouted through the communicator.  
  
"Roger, coordinates received. Just hang on kid. We'll get your men outta danger in no time." Fox's voice rang back.  
  
Slumping to the dusty ground, I peered up into the blazing sky. A few faint silhouettes formed under the glaring sun as Fox and his team descended to a lower elevation. In a delta formation, three Arwings skimmed through the air and raked the dunes with steady beams of laser, scattering the tight formations of advancing droids into twitching heaps. Then, a solo Arwing - presumably Fox - sped towards the outcrop's direction. The sleek spacecraft dipped for a second, launching a smart bomb, then deftly flipped in the air and veered towards the sky. The sickly buzz of the bomb exploded into an earth-rending roar upon impact. With a flash of infernal light, the outcrop was reduced to rubble. Fox smugly retreated from the site, utterly unscathed and unfazed.  
  
Gathering my wits after witnessing him carry out the attack, I quickly called a retreat and withdrew my platoon into the security of the Katina base. Without supportive artillery fire, the droids were of no substantial threat; the base's defenses were sufficient to deter further advancements.  
  
----------------------  
  
"Well done, kid," Fox commended, laying a reassuring hand on my shoulder.  
  
I did not respond. My gaze was fixed intently upon the photograph that I fumbled around with in my grimy hands, my eyes tracing the figures within as if searching for a satisfactory answer. From within the picture, Laura's bright features smiled back at me.  
  
I sat on the warm sand and leaned again the base's exterior wall. Drawing in a deep breath, I could still smell the sharp stench of blood amidst the drifting dust. As if healing the wounds of battle, night fell across the dunes like a dark blanket, and a soothing silence washed over the earth and drenched the skies.  
  
"Not well done enough to prevent all of this destruction from happening," I sighed bitterly, finally acknowledging his presence.  
  
"But good enough for a young colonel. Your father would have been proud," Fox refuted, smiling knowingly.  
  
"A young, inexperienced colonel, you might add," I chuckled in grim humor. "A young man who has not the heart to fight any longer. All those casualties and losses were reported to General Pepper. All under my name."  
  
Fox frowned, sensing the grief within me. I felt wretched.  
  
"There will always be casualties of war, Summers. You tried your best."  
  
"I'm sorry. I just. never had such overwhelming burdens hauled upon me. It's strangling." I stammered in a disheveled tone, a few bangs draping over my downcast eyes.  
  
There was a patient, sympathetic pause on his side. I knew he understood. As someone with a similar past, he must have known my sufferings all too painfully.  
  
"Don't think too much, kid. Just hang on for a bit longer. The war will soon be over," he sighed, turning away and trudging back into the base. And there I sat in solitude, staring blankly out into the windswept plains.  
  
Indeed, the great Lylat Wars were quickly drawing to an end. Cornerian forces have safety reclaimed the Katina base from Imperial control, and I have been posted here to ensure that it stayed in our grasp. Soon, Team Starfox would depart to liberate the Confederate planets of Zoness, Titania, Macbeth, and then finally, Venom. The tides of Venomian influence was slowly receding - yet, the sense of emptiness and longing had not waned within me. It lingered in my heart.  
  
I thought that I have firmly anchored my determination on that night of departure. Solitude had always been the foundation of my strength - the well from which I drew all my resilience. Yet, all my beliefs have changed since she entered my life. All my values, all my thoughts have been written over with a tender hand, unfettered by the callous influence of lonely pride.  
  
This planet reminded me too much of her. It was her childhood. It was her promise. It was where her dreams were shattered.  
  
Where was she? Out in the battlefield, perhaps. I heard from reports that Corneria suffered an assault, and somehow, I knew she would be out there, fighting for the planet, fighting for the Lylat System - fighting for all of us.  
  
Guided by the hands of chance, I unraveled the bandage on my wounded leg. It ached no more, but blood continued to slowly seep through like thick syrup. I stared at the smothered red blood on my hands. The silvery glitter of the moon reflected on its defiled surface, and I knew that the stains would never wash away.  
  
I missed her innocent smile. 


End file.
